Now, That Is What I Call Stuffing The Turkey!
by Mizz Moneypenny
Summary: Mr. McMahon adores Christmas, believe it or not. However, Christmas dinner looks like it will be ruined unless the Coach can find some stand in chefs for the big day. But will two of Vince's employees put a spanner in the works once again? Chapter 8 up!
1. Chapter 1: I need you, Coachman!

Hey and welcome once again to another exciting fan fiction by the Real Mizz! Anyway, this is a little Christmas musing I had starting back in September (yeah, I like to be organised...and Christmassy!). All characters, unless otherwise stated, are property of World Wrestling Entertainment and Vincent Kennedy McMahon.

Enjoy!

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Slouching in his Italian leather chair, Mr. McMahon hummed gleefully to himself. As the tune of 'I'm Dreaming Of a White Christmas' echoed around the room, a warm, fuzzy feeling crept his stomach, as did a strangly sincere smirk across his aging face. He really did love Christmas. No, _really_. It had been some of his fondest memories since becoming a Father and, more recently, a Grandfather. This year, he wanted everything to be perfect.

But there was a problem.

Biting the end of his gold, diamond encrusted fountain pen nervously, Vince remembered something that could put a damper on the whole McMahon festive season, that could ruin Christmas entirely for one of the most powerful families in America; his head chefs were not to be in town for the day of the 25th of December.

That's right, for the first time in nearly 30 years, his catering staff decided that _they_ wanted a holiday too. Heaven forbid! Just because Ricardo's wife was due to have her first child on that Holy day, and Gerard hadn't had a Christmas off in the ten years he had been working in the McMahon house hold, what right did _they_ have to want the day off? It was preposterous!

Sitting himself upright, Vince slammed his pen down, obviously annoyed by it all. This was to be a very special Christmas day for them all; his Granddaughter, Aurora Rose's first Christmas.

The mere mention of his daughters baby girl melted his heart entirely; her beautiful, crisp blue eyes, her soft as cotton candy skin and her mass of short yet curly brunette hair. She was perfect in every sense of the word, even if Vince was a little bias. And, after all, he _was_ allowed to be just for once in his life.

He couldn't sacrifice the perfect Christmas dinner just for his holiday orientated workers! Sure, his Granddaughter was to young to tuck into roast turkey but that didn't stop him wanting the best Festivities the State of Connecticut had ever seen!

Standing to his feet, he picked up his phone, determined to get some alternative arrangements in place. "Coachman?" he hollered, his voice gruff, meaning urgent business. "Come to my office - now!" he roared, slamming the receiver down, returning to his seat as he awaited the arrival of his special assistant.

A few moments of agonising waiting later, a timid knock came at the door. Upon inviting the guest to enter, Jonathan Coachman peeped his head around the door post coyly.

"You called, Sir?" his voice quivered, hoping that his boss was not angry at him.

"Yes, I did." Vince nodded, getting up from his seat, placing the papers he was reading down onto the mahogany desk.

"Wha-what can I do for you?" Coachman entered a little further, unsure of Mr. McMahon's thoughts.

"Come in the doorway for starters!" Vince joked in an edgy fashion, the Coach unable to make out his bosses exact musings.

Upon this, Jonathan closed the door, looking to his feet, his voice in almost a whisper. "Are you mad at me?"

"Of course not!" Vince chuckled, pulling Coachman's shoulders in for a friendly hug. "Well, not yet."

"How'd you mean, sir?" Coach tittered, trying to make himself a little more at ease.

Releasing Jonathan from his grip, the Chairman turned and faced away from his valued assistant. "Only if you don't do this task properly, then I'll be mad at you."

Coachman appeared startled. "What task?"

"Well I'm glad you asked." Vince replied, returning to his seat, sitting forward, cupping his hands together and planting them on the desk. "You are well aware what the 25th of December is, as is everybody on the planet."

"Christmas day." Coach stated, expecting a trick question of some sorts.

"Exactly." Vince pointed in praise. "And, tell me, what does Christmas mean to you? Don't give me any of that religious crap, we all know that McMahonism is far superior to any other faith on the planet!"

"Well, Christmas is all about presents, first and foremost." Jonathan replied, his eyes glazed over, remember his first train set when he was three years old, with the distinct puffing sound the red engine made. His dark blue and maroon mountain bike - that nearly came up to his head - when he was seven. His first make up set when he was ten, complete with the brightest, pinkest blusher and lipstick on the planet, given to him by a rather confused Great Aunt Sally.

"After the presents." Vince continued, rolling his hands as a gesture to bring back some form of memory to the younger man.

"The Christmas dinner - that was always fantastic!" Coachman cheered, his trademark smirk returning to his face. "I always remember Mama and I, every Christmas morning after opening our prezzies, we would go into the kitchen, still being able to smell the fresh sage and onion stuffing we had stuffed the turkey with the night before." he reminisced, fascinated by his recollections.

"That's where you come in." Vince broke the silence, once again standing from his seat.

"Me?"

"Yes, you see, my kitchen staff, after years of kissing my ass - literally of course - every Christmas morning have now decided that they are not going to do it this year." Vince sneered; wasn't he as entitled to his Christmas dinner as the next wealthy entrepreneur?

"Really? Well, with all due respects sir, I really hope that you aren't asking me to do it..." Coachman giggled one again uneasily.

"No, far from it, I've tasted your cooking before! You can't even boil an egg!"

Coachman nodded, there was no point in denying it; he was a rubbish cook, far unworthy of having the privilege of cooking the entire McMahon family Christmas dinner.

"Where do I come into all of this?" the Coach questioned, digging his right hand into his Armani suit trouser pocket.

"Well, I want you my special assistant to find me some decent chefs for my Christmas Day Extravaganza!" Vince told eagerly.

"How should I do that?" Coach quizzed, knowing that it is very hard indeed to please a McMahon.

"Put advertisements on the internet and local papers. Go asking restaurants if they have any staff spare for Christmas day this year, I don't know this is your assignment. Just make sure it is someone who can prepare all of the trimmings to perfection! I can count on you, right?" the Boss inquired, wrapping his arms again around the top of Jonathan's shoulders.

"Yes, you can, sir." the Coach's smile became less bright, nerves filling the pit of his stomach as Vince gleamed on in happiness, imagining the best Christmas ever for his wonderful family.

However, unbeknownst to them, two well loved men stood mischievously outside Mr. McMahon's office and were soon to be playing a nasty game on their boss...

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Hey, thanks for reading the first chapter and, I know it's a little short but trust me, they will get a lot longer! I hope you've enjoyed it.

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2: From nerves to smirks!

With his head in his hands, sat at his un-inspirational desk in the vast office in Stamford, Connecticut, Jonathan Coachman was at the end of his tether. The task his beloved boss, Mr. McMahon, had set him was turning out to be a full scale nightmare.

Trying to find competent chefs that could cook the perfect Christmas day dinner for the fast growing McMahon family was proving to be the biggest challenge Coachman had been assigned, since becoming the special assistant of Vince.

He had tried everything. Posting advert all over the world wide web, in every major American publication, radio broadcasts, the works.

But nothing became of it.

Loosening his tie, Coachman removed his sunglasses, after all, he barely needed them in the grim winter months, and strolled thoughtfully around the room, his hands deep in his trouser pockets of his brand new, grey pin striped suit complete with a black Ralph Lauren shirt and silver tie. His ideas were dwindled.

Yet, he could hardly admit to _the_ Vincent Kennedy McMahon that he was a failure, could he? He needed a solution - and fast.

Suddenly, his shiny, blue MotoKRZR K1, given to him as an early Christmas gift by the one and only Mr. McMahon and his lovely wife Linda - for emergency use of course - started to vibrate. Flipping the top, he was less than excited as to who was calling...

"Sir, how are you?" he quizzed, putting on a happier tone of voice.

"I'm doing fine. How is the search going for the special chefs?"

"Well, I'm not gonna lie to you Mr. McMahon," Coach sighed, rubbing his stubbly chin. "It's...it's going great!"

"Really?"

"Yes, in fact, come Friday I should be able to reveal the very special chefs to you." Coachman cringed at his last words.

"Brilliant!" Vince cheered, glad that it would only be a few days wait. "See you on Friday then."

"Yes, have a good day, Sir." the Coach discontinued the call, his eyes tightly shut.

'What have I done?' he mused, groaning to himself as he plonked his body down onto the seat at his desk, his hands firmly clasping his head. "I'll never get anyone by Friday!"

Laying back in the recliner, his head was in a daze; he had really done it now. In his minds eye, he could just picture next Monday's Raw...

**_"YOU'RE FIRED!_**"

"Fuck." Coachman mumbled, shaking his head in disgrace. That was a very uncommon word to pass his lips, now that he was an apprentice of a world renowned entrepreneur.

Looking to the ceiling for some sense of hope, Jonathan Coachman did something that he hadn't done in many years; pray.

"Lord, I know I'm not a good person...ok, I'm a terrible person. But please, help me somehow, some way to find my beloved Boss, Mr. McMahon, a couple of brilliant chefs for Christmas Day this year." he begged, his own stomach turning at the words exiting his mouth. "And, if not do it for him, do it for his beautiful baby Granddaughter, Aurora Rose. Amen."

Abruptly, the phone started to bleep. Jerking upright, Jonathan cleared his throat before lifting the receiver to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi, Mr. Coachman, it's Tracy. There are two gentleman on the phone for you concerning Christmas day dinner at the McMahon's. Should I redirect the call to you?" one of the many WWE reception staff told.

"Yes...please!" Jonathan stated hastily, peering to the sky with his smirk on his face.

"Hi, uh, is this Jonathan Coachman?" an Italian accent spoke, his voice a little shaky.

"Yes, it is indeed." he smiled, returning to his seat in a more relaxed manner.

"Well, this is Alfonso and, uh..."

"And John." the other man spoke, receiving a puzzled and disapproving look from the guy stood next to him.

"Anyway, are you still searching for someone to cook the McMahon family Christmas dinner?" he questioned, his dodgy accent broad and yet slightly familiar.

However, this didn't register with Coachman; he was just delighted that someone out there could be able to help him in his hours of need. "Yes, I still am. Tell me, how good are the two of you?"

"Well, John used to make men get erections..."

"No, ha ha," Coachman tugged at his collar, understanding that last comment to be some kind of joke. "I mean, how _good_ are the both of you at cooking?"

"Oh we are excellent-a!" John cried, grabbing the phone from 'Alfonso'. "We have worked with some of _the_ top chefs all around the world!"

"Who might that include?" Jonathan questioned in a professional manner; deep down, he felt euphoria bubble inside of him for the first time in days.

"Ummm, Gordon Ramsay, you've heard of him?"

"Yes, who hasn't?"

"Anthony Worrall Thompson...oh and Jamie Oliver." 'John' continued.

'Alfonso' mouthed the words Jamie Oliver, knowing that it was indeed time to take charge of the situation once again, grabbing the phone from his friend quickly.

"What John is trying to say, Mr. Coachman..."

"Please, call me Coach."

"Ok, Coach, he was trying to say that we are both very experienced. You can trust us one-hundred-and-ten percent!"

Considering this to himself, Jonathan knew that this was possibly his last hope of getting chefs in time for the grand unveiling on Friday. He realised that it was too late to start being picky over who he chose. "Ok, you guys can have the job, if, you can cook me a preview of what you'll be cooking to the McMahon family on the 25th of December."

"Is Christmas Day on the 25th this year?" Alfonso mocked, a droplet of sweat falling from the head of the Coaches. "Just kidding! Sure, we'll be able to do it, no problem-o, easy peasy."

After exchanging phone numbers and the Coach giving the two men the address they were to be cooking at, they said their goodbyes as they began to wait anxiously for Friday to arrive.

"No problem? Easy peasy?" 'John' inquired, giving his best friend a look of concern, changing back into his ordinary accent.

"Yes, look, how hard can it possibly be?" 'Alfonso' tutted.

"Remember that time you cooked for us before?" the shorter of the men quizzed. "It was a disaster!"

"So what if I used coffee granules instead of gravy, look, we still have time to prepare. We have a couple of days." 'Alfonso' reasoned, turning his back to his protégé, spying up recipes in his cookery book.

"Really?" the older man replied, folding his arms across his firm, tanned chest. "What happens if he wants references from some of our great chef friends? The only chefs we know are the ones in McDonalds!"

"He won't need one."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Look, remember our aim and remember it good; we aren't meant to be cooking the McMahon's a fantastic Christmas dinner...just a crap one."

"Hello, they are part of _your_ family!" 'John' reasoned, now more than a little uncertain of the prank, punching his mate playfully on the arm. "How are you going to get out of seeing them on the Holiest day of the year, huh?"

"You leave that to me, all we need to do now is make sure we can cook well before Friday."

"And if we can't?"

"Hey, it doesn't matter. You saw how uptight Coach looked last night at Raw, it'll be ok." 'Alfonso' spoke confidently, his partner in crime a little edgier about the whole idea.

Meanwhile, Coachman was leant back in his recliner chair, seemingly on top of the world. "Man I'm good!" he mumbled arrogantly to himself.

But how good would he be for how long?

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Next time in 'Now, That Is What I Call Stuffing The Turkey!...

What will Coachman make of 'Alfonso' and 'John'?

Check back for more, soon!

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Hey guys, thank you so much to all of you who reviewed the first chapter, I'm glad you like it so far and hope that you enjoyed this little part.

The next chapter will be up at the week end at some point. Thank you for reading and please review!


	3. Chapter 3: We need help!

Waiting patiently in his in his small yet modern apartment - or bachelor pad as he liked to call it - Jonathan Coachman was hovering the final spec of dust from his rug, making sure that the dark oak laminate flooring was so shiny, that when he came into the room, Mr. McMahon would be able to see his reflection in it.

Today was Friday, the day when Alfonso and John would be cooking in the Coach's apartment as sort of an exam to make sure they were both up to top standards for the McMahon Christmas Dinner.

Feeling unusually optimistic, despite it still being mid morning, the Coach poured himself a large glass of red wine, from the case Vince and Linda had given him as a birthday present this past year.

He was expecting great things from the Italian duo who should be arriving any minute to his state of the art crib, furnished in the finest materials and ornaments.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, urging the Coach to jump from his seat. Straightening out his dark blue suit and white shirt, he could hardly wait to meet his two new helpers.

"This will never work." 'John' muttered under his breath, dreading the moment the door was to fly open.

'Alfonso' was a little more positive. "Relax, they'll never figure it out."

"Great, you're here!" Coachman cheered, extending his hand in turn for the two unusual looking men to shake.

The slightly taller man was dressed completely in red, white and green. He had a longish, greying beard which covered the majority of his cheeks and chin. The other man had short, dark hair - which Jonathan became fascinated with, convinced that it was a very dodgy toupee - and a curly, black moustache. Together, they were quite an odd looking pair, complete with their four huge shopping bags.

"So, ummm, which one of you is John?" Coachman quizzed once the two men had entered his apartment, as he couldn't quite remember the other man's name.

"He's John and I'm Alfonso." the taller man stated, his thick accent only just distinguishable.

"Ok, well, it's great to meet you both." Coach nodded, now becoming a little weary of the two characters before him. "I'll show you where everything is in the kitchen, should I?"

The two men merely followed Jonathan, assuming that was a rhetorical question.

"So, which part of Italy did you both come from?" the Coach asked, only to be polite and to start a little conversation. Also, it would sound better to the ears of Mr. McMahon if he knew a little background knowledge of the two.

"Milan!" 'John' replied passionately, placing his chefs hat firmly on his head. "Have you ever been to that part of the great Italy?"

"You know he has!" 'Alfonso' responded, getting a shifty look from both 'John' and Coachman. "I mean, ha ha, if you travel with Raw, you _must_ have been to Milan, no?"

"Yes but I didn't have time to really go sight seeing or anything." Vince's special assistant stated, in almost a regretful tone. "Anyway, my kitchen is pretty straight forward and I'd imagine it may be a little too simple for experienced chefs such as yourselves?"

"Oh yes, there is nothing in here that we don't know how to use!" 'Alfonso' said confidently, 'John' feeling like hitting him.

Truth to be told, the two men could barely name all of the appliances in the kitchen, let alone cook on them. That made 'John' quite apprehensive indeed...

"Ok, so I'll leave you two to get on, yes?" Coach quizzed, getting a gentle nod from both men in response.

Turning his back to them both, Coach began to walk away from the kitchen. With his hand casually placed on the door handle, he spoke once again. "Oh, uh, by the way. Mr. McMahon wants to meet you and to test some of your food to make sure it is up to his extremely high standards," Coachman told, the two 'Italian's' closing their eyes tightly in despair. "He'll be here in about two and a half hours. Enjoy!" he concluded, exiting the room.

"Man, we are done for!" 'John' cried, in his usual voice, removing his chefs hat from his head, slinging it onto the table top in angst. "What are we gonna do now?"

'Alfonso' looked on thoughtfully; what were they to do at a time like this? "You know what, 'John'?" He quizzed, wrapping a comforting arm around his long time friend. "It's about time you used some of that Texas charm of yours and call an old friend."

'John' spied the other man up and down, his words finally finding a place in his absent mind. "Oh no, not her, anything but her!" he pulled away, his eyes and lips turning anxious.

"C'mon, look, think just how great it will be on Christmas day when we see McMahon's face puking up!" he manipulated, handing 'John' his mobile as he grabbed another bottle of wine from the rack, removing the cork rapidly.

"What are you doing?" 'John' questioned, realising that both men in the kitchen were t-total.

"Never you mind - just get her here and drag her through that window quickly - I'll go and keep Coach occupied." 'Alfonso' told, disappearing into the living room, leaving 'John' to fend for himself.

"Hey, yeah it's me...look, I really, really need your help..."

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Creeping into the living room, the bearded man was not facing Jonathan, who was blissfully unaware that he was not alone. He was much too engrossed in the American football game on his HD, wide screen television to really care what was going on in the kitchen - or behind him for that matter - as he grunted at the commentary and the teams dreadful playing.

"HELLO COACH!" 'Alfonso' yelled, prompting Coachman to jump out of his skin, spilling the remainder of his wine all down the front of his shirt.

"Al...Alfonso!" he breathed heavily, unable to regain composure easily, his hand feeling his hasty heartbeat. "Wha-what do you want?"

"Well, I wanted to know if you were alright?"

"Until you gave me a freakin' heart attack, yes I was!" he growled, unimpressed with his shirts stain. "I'm going to have to change before Mr. McMahon gets here now!"

"Oh, no, no, no, don't worry about that!" the supposed chef urged, grabbing some tissues from the chrome box on the table, "Here, let me help..."

"No, thank you." Coach sighed, pushing the man's hand away from his chest, determined to do it himself whilst not getting angered in the process.

"Perhaps you would like some more wine!" Alfonso encouraged, pouring the blood red beverage before the Coachman even had a chance to disagree.

"Not to much." he spoke, his hand gesturing as a stop sign.

There was a few moments of silence in the room as Jonathan continued to watch the taped American football match. 'Alfonso' knew that he needed to distract the Coach before his and Johns helper arrived.

"So, you like-a American football, ay?"

"Yeah I love it!" Coach beamed. "Better than wrestling."

"Really? No way!" 'Alfonso' disagreed, as if it was programmed into his mind to disagree instantly.

"Don't get me wrong, I like wrestling and the money isn't bad," Coachman spoke honestly, "But there is something so...so authentic about football."

'Alfonso' got distracted by the opening of the kitchen door and the waving that his buddy was doing.

"What do you think?" Coach quizzed.

"Uh, I dunno, I'll be back in a moment-o." he spoke, dashing into the kitchen.

But what's the matter with 'John'?

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Next time in 'Now That Is What I Call Stuffing The Turkey'...

Who's the guys helper? Will the Coach be distracted for long enough for them to get their act together? Will they manage to cook the food before the boss arrives?

Check back for more, soon!

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Hey, thank you for reading once again and a special thank you goes out to LC Hime, Flowers-n-Ginger, randxgirl and DX Diva for their great reviews last chapter, it's very much appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4: Help is at hand!

Hey, before the next chapter starts I just wanted to say a big thank you to everyone still reading and reviewing. I'm thrilled with the responses!

Enjoy chapter 4!

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"We have a problem-o." 'John' mimicked an Italian accent, opening the door wide enough for his friend to enter.

"What's up -" 'Alfonso' paused, shock taking over his expressions. "Holy s..."

"What are you stood their gawping at? HURRY UP AND GET ME OUT OF HERE!" the rather large, African-American woman yelled at the top of her voice, much to the annoyance of the men before her; she was trapped in the window, trying to get in secretly to avoid Vince's special assistant.

"Don't yell!" 'John' whispered, covering the ladies mouth with his hand. "I told you, this is top secret, you have to be in and out of here within the next hour and a bit, got it?"

Her eyes like daggers, she bit 'John's' hand, determined not to be dictated to. "I know that, just get me out of this damn window!"

"How do you suggest we do that, Mama?" the taller man quizzed, folding his arms across his chest, spying 'John's' pained expression from his wound. "We grease you up?"

"No need for sarcasm." 'John' spoke, trying to bring sanity back to the proceedings and feeling back into his hand. "If we push you out of the window, you go back down the way you came then come in the front door..."

"How do you suggest we do that, Einstein, Coach is sat in their." 'Alfonso' pointed lazily to the door.

Hearing all of the commotion, Coachman became curious as to what was taking place in his kitchen. Getting up from his seat, he knocked on the door, eager for an answer. "Uh, how are you guys getting on in there?"

"Fine." The Italian Impostors spoke in unison, continuing to push the woman out of the window in case he entered.

"I can't smell much cooking at the moment..." Jonathan interjected.

"Ugh, you will do in a few moment-os." 'John' shouted, Mama finally popping out of the window pane, managing to get her footing on the less than sturdy, emergency escape ladder, that was barely strong enough to hold her weight.

"Ok, can't wait to try your cooking!" Coach shrugged, retaking his seat on the crème sofa.

"Now what do you suggest we do?" the older man questioned, becoming a little agitated.

"I have an idea." 'Alfonso' spoke. "You get Mama Benjamin in here through the front door and I'll take Coach to get cleaned up."

"Cleaned up?"

"Yeah, I spilt wine all down him!"

"Ok, only if you're sure." 'John' agreed reluctantly, muttering instructions to a paler appearing Mama as 'Alfonso' sneaked his way into the living quarters again.

"Er, Coachman," he spoke.

"What now?" Jonathan asked, becoming a little exasperated with the lack of work seeming to be done.

"You're a right-a that shirt looks terrible. C'mon, lets go get you cleaned up." 'Alfonso' urged, grabbing him by the arm and leading him through another door, Coachman not having time to argue.

Opening the door only slightly, 'John' made sure the coast was clear. Tip toeing over to the door, he opened it finding a rather nerved Mrs. Benjamin.

"Shawn, that wasn't a good idea..."

"Don't call me Shawn!" he interrupted, closing the door quietly behind her, tip toeing into the room. "Remember, while you're here, I'm John and Hunter is Alfonso, got it?" he told, hurrying her into the kitchen.

"John?" Mama screwed up her plump face. "That isn't a very Italian name?"

"Neither is Mama!" he hastened, washing his hands once again before getting prepared to help Shelton Benjamin's Mother.

Ever since the day she met Shawn, Mama fell madly in love with the Heartbreak Kid, the day that her and her offspring we left stuck in a haunted house with D Generation X and other members of the WWE...

_Flashback: 'Things That Go Bump In The Night'_

_Carlito, Randy Orton, Shelton and Mama had followed both DX and Kurt Angle to the house, hoping that they were leading them to a hotel. When they weren't - and they were forced to share a bed - things nearly went a little wrong for HBK..._

_"Looks like it's us seven then!" Carlito confirmed._

_"You don't mind...do you Shawn?" Mama Benjamin purred, bounding onto the bed, hovering close to Shawn's face as she twirled some of his long, golden locks around her pinky finger._

_"Ummm, no, Mrs Benjamin."_

_"That's good!" she chuckled. "Now, you three out of bed, Mama needs to get warm!"_

_And with that, Shawn, Kurt and Triple H had been relegated to the floor._

_"Except for you HBK. You can keep me warm!" Mama flirted._

_"Ummm, maybe later!" Shawn indecisively spoke, his eyes on stalks._

_End of Flashback._

Secretly - or not so to her son - she was obsessed with the Icon, now, tuning into every Raw episode just to get a glimpse of that unobtainable soul. Now, he was stood before her, in the flesh. Sure, he was in one of the worst disguises she has ever seen but she wanted to help him. Maybe, just maybe, he would like her more then?

"Ok, sweetie, we haven't got time to lose." She spoke, picking up random cookery objects from her over sized, suede bag. "If I've gotta be out of here in an hour."

"Yep, I'm afraid so." the Showstoppa' replied politely, realising as soon as the words left his mouth that he had said exactly the wrong thing...

- - - - - - - - - -

Meanwhile, 'Alfonso' had managed to help Coach pick out a brand new, bright white shirt to accompany his dark suit. Re-sitting him down, he offered him some more wine, to which he accepted and made his way back into the kitchen.

"You took your time, didn't you?" Shawn asked ironically, sprinkling tiny pieces of freshly cut bacon into a pan along with Brussel sprouts and spring onions and a hint of garlic.

"Sorry but, I uh, knew you two would be just fine on your own." Triple H cheekily said, receiving an evil glare from his best friend as Mama blushed - quite a lot.

"Well, yes, come on Hunter, we need your hands too!" she added, continuing with her business, handing the Game a peeler and some potatoes.

- - - - - - - - - -

An hour of cooking - and burning - later, the trio had nearly completed their meal. Drying the final pot, Shawn peeked out of the window - and was not happy at the view; a stretched, shiny limousine with a pumped up, aging man being chauffeur driven.

"Oh gosh, guys, Vince is here!"

"Shit...come on, put all this crap away!" the King of Kings quickened, the two men eyeing Mama Benjamin up and down.

"You need to get out of here...now!" Shawn cried, helping her with her coat and passing her her rather large handbag. "Thanks for everything. I swear I'll make it up for you!" the Heartbreak Kid spoke, kissing Mama lightly on the cheek, helping her out of the window once Vince and his posse had made their way into the building, trying to hide their cover for as long as possible.

"I'll hold you to that!" Mama winked, her white smile shining brightly in the tense situation, making Shawn cringe and Hunter splutter.

But what would Vince make of their cooking?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Now, That Is What I Call Stuffing The Turkey!'...

Is the cooking up to McMahon standards? Have D Generation X been rumbled?

Check back for more, soon!


	5. Chapter 5: So, do they get the job?

Laying dozily on his plush sofa, the Coach had lost all track of the time and day; his tie bedraggled, his face a mess, he had honestly forgotten who would be visiting him in a matter of minutes.

Pouring himself about the hundredth glass of wine of the day, he hicked to himself, the still sane part of his head realising that maybe, just maybe, it was not a good idea to start drinking so early in the morning.

"Wise man said, only fo- hick - fools rush in," he slurred to himself, not comprehending much at all, especially not his surroundings.

Suddenly, a firm, business like knock came at his door. "Piss off!" he yelled, taking another swig of wine, unimpressed when the person at the door was so damn persistent.

"Who the fuck can that be?" Jonathan moaned, pulling himself up eventually, stumbling over to the door. Seeing who it was there, he became fully awake...

"Mr. McMahon? Sir!"

"Well it's about time, what took you so long?" Vince quizzed in an annoyed tone, power walking into his executive assistants apartment, peeping his watch in anger. "I must have been waiting out there for five whole minutes!" he gasped. "I HATE being kept waiting! I have better things to do then waste my time!"

"I know you do, and I'm sorry sir." Coachman apologised, closing the door gently behind his boss, making sure his tie was not too untidy. "I was, uh, at the uh..."

"Oh right, well you do have an excuse then." McMahon sneered, undoing his jacket buttons.

Spying his apprentice up and down, Vince had a hard time deciding what was going on with the young man; Jonathan's clumsy appearance made him raise an eyebrow in disgust.

"Didn't you have time to dress yourself properly?" he quizzed, trying to make light of the situation at least for the moment.

"No, I did, but I went to ummm change, that's it, I went to get change." Coachman reminded in himself, in an unconvincing manner.

Sniffing the air, Vince became aware of a very distinct smell. "Have you been drinking?"

"No, sir." Coachman responded timidly, tip toeing backwards in an attempt to hide the many empty bottles of wine stashed on the coffee table.

"I'm sure I can smell alcohol on your breath." Vince once again inhaled, turning away to go nearer to the kitchen door. "Ar, smells like it's coming from the cooking." he reframed, Coachman letting out a muted sigh of relief, as would most people right about now. "Come on, lets go and see what these gentlemen can do for me." Vince continued, marching his way through the door.

- - - - - - - - - -

"Fix your moustache!" Hunter told 'John' in a whisper, making sure that his own chef's hat was not too crooked on his head or revealing any of his natural hair. "Remember our names and think Italian!"

Abruptly, the door swung open, nearly knocking poor 'John' flying!

"Good afternoon, fella's." Vince greeted warmly, shaking both men's hands in turn. "I'm sure you know who I am..."

"Mr. McMahon!" the two men replied very enthusiastically, bringing a cocky, supreme smile to the lips of the WWE Chairman; he loved being in a position of power.

"Excellent!" Vince cheered, flinging his arms in the air. "I like these two already!" he turned to a rather frazzled looking Coach.

"Great." he gingerly spoke, rubbing his ill temples, not appreciating the loudness of Vince, making his boss raise an eyebrow towards him.

"Well, let's not stand on ceremony, let's get tasting!" Vince motivated, tucking the napkin into his collar, sitting down at the ready laid place at the green, red and white decorated table; he was more than a little eager to test the food. Plus, he was starving!

Motioning towards each other, 'John' and 'Alfonso' were ready to serve up the first dish.

"This, uh, is the stuffing that we would put into your turkey!" 'John' told, softly placing one of the stuffing balls into the middle of the crisp clean plate, 'Alfonso's' lips curling into that of a smile at his best friends choice of words.

"What's in it?" Vince questioned, poking it with his folk, deciding what to make of it before cutting a little slab off.

"Well, it's got spicy salami sausage, onions and garlic in it." 'Alfonso' piped up, trying to decide what the McMahon's expressions indicated.

'Fuck!' Jonathan thought in aggravation to himself, 'Mr. McMahon **hates** salami!'

Twisting the food repetitativly around and around his mouth, Vince finally swallowed it, taking a gulp of water. "That was...excellent! That was so flavoursome!"

"If you liked that, you will love this." 'John' spoke, bringing over the brussel sprout bacon, spring onion and garlic mixture which Vince also approved of, although he did feel that the garlic was a little over powering.

"This, you will adore!" 'Alfonso' chimed in.

"What is this?" Vince asked, intrigued.

"Honey ham with a hint of..."

"Garlic?" Vince interrupted, guessing the added herb as Coachman chuckled drunkenly to himself, leaning sluggishly against the work top, his face slouched on his hand.

"I like garlic as much as the next guy," Vince reasoned, for the first time in his life (after all, he _did_ need these people desperatly), "but don't you think you are going a little over the top with it all? After all, you aren't French!"

"You bet we aren't French or Italian!" 'Alfonso' muttered under his breath, forcing 'John' to tred on his foot, as the imposter tried not to grimmace.

"This does not have a hint of garlic in sight. These are roasted potatoes with melted parmesan cheese and a touch of herbs."

"Brilliant!" Vince agreed, clearing his plate fully, making it look like it didn't even need to be washed it was sparkling so much. "And for dessert?"

"For dessert, we have a very special treat for you!" 'Alfonso' claimed, bringing forward the pudding. "This is a Panettone cake from our native Milan."

"What's in it?"

"Well, it contains a zest of lemon and orange, fruits, Amaretto and Crema di Mascarpone to top it all off!" 'John' explained, watching the Chairman's face turn awfully sour.

"Yes, well thank you, but I think I'll stick to my pecan pie." Vince warned, taking a huge gulp of water in hope of relieving his mouth of the not so pleasant taste he was experiencing.

"What a shame, he no-like-a the cake!" 'John' frowned, thrusting the baking under the nose of the Coach. "Would you like to try a little bit?"

After just one whiff of the cake, Jonathan Coachman turned bright, slime green like the familiar D Generation X logo, his cheeks puffing out in appalled displeasure. Scrambling through the door, he made a hasty retreat to the bathroom.

"That was odd." 'Alfonso' shrugged, turning his attention back to the still seated man. "What did you think over all?"

"I liked a lot of it." he honestly spoke, bringing hope to both men's faces. "However, if you did come and cook for me, you would have to follow some of the recipes myself and my family prefer."

The wealthy entrepreneur, rubbed his face, his eyes examining the two chefs before him. Leaning his head to one side, he glanced at the food before him before the men once again. Sure, their cooking was very good, in fact it was great. Yet, it wasn't to his and Linda's family style; it wasn't traditional enough.

Letting out a huge sigh, he knew that he had little choice. "OK, as you guys know it is about a week until Christmas. That leaves me with very little time."

Just then, Vince saw the expectant look to the two men's faces. They did look awfully shady and he seemed to recognise them, as if he had seen them both before, possibly in a dream. Yet, he dismissed this, putting this thought to the back of his loaded mind. "I would love you two to come and cook Christmas day dinner for myself and my family."

High fiving each other, neither Shawn - or 'John' - and Triple H or 'Alfonso' could believe that they had pulled it off.

"I'll send you details of preferences within the next 48 hours." Vince concluded, standing up and peering down to his waiting limousine below. "Well, see you on Christmas day!" he said, power walking his way out of the building.

But would the two chefs be rumbled before then?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Now, That Is What I Call Stuffing The Turkey!'...

Have DX met their match - does someone know what really is going on? Plus, they get the menu they are expected to prepare before the 25th of December but can they 'master' it in time?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Hey, thank you to LC Hime and DX Diva for reviewing last time as well as everyone adding this to their favs or alerts list. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	6. Chapter 6: What do you know?

Lying lazily on the wooden bench backstage at Raw, Shawn Michaels could hardly wait for the Christmas holiday to begin. He adored Christmas time; not just because he was a Christian but also because of the sense of peace and relaxation he felt with the holiday. He simply loved watching his children open their presents on Christmas morning, watching their cute faces light up once receiving the gift that they had wanted for the past year.

Yet, this Christmas was to be different and not in a good way; this year himself and best friend Triple H were to be cooking Christmas day dinner for the entire McMahon family, hoping to ruin the festivities in the act.

But, it wasn't just to be a silly little prank that they wanted to play on their idiotic boss. It wasn't even to be some sort of sick joke. Well, it was going to be both of them things and more but it was to be for a very good reason...

_Flashback: Back in September of this year._

_Vince and Linda were visiting the new family of Paul, Stephanie and baby Aurora Rose. Up and until this point, they hadn't had much of a chance to spend time with their first Granddaughter or to bond with her._

_Walking into the house, Hunter welcomed his In Laws into his and their daughter's luxury mansion, about ten miles away from where they lived in the state of Connecticut. As they went and greeted Stephanie and their new Granddaughter, Hunter offered to go into the kitchen and make everyone a hot drink after planting a kiss on his wife's forehead._

_Humming casually to himself, the Game hadn't felt as happy as this in a long, long time; the birth of his first child had been a life changing experience for the couple. And for the better._

_Grabbing Vince and Linda's coffees, Hunter strolled gingerly back into the living room, stopping as soon as he heard the topic of conversation inside..._

_"She is so pretty." Vince gushed, touching the baby's cheek lightly. "She obviously takes after you, darling." he motioned towards Stephanie._

_"Oh no, she has some of Paul's features too." Steph disagreed, sitting beside her Father on the sofa. "She has his shape lips and eyes to an extent."_

_"As long as she doesn't have his shape nose! By God, that would be awful!" Vince chuckled evilly, jogging the buddle of joy up and down in his arms._

_"That's mean." Stephanie gasped, not liking the direction the conversation was taking._

_"It's true though." Linda chimed in._

_"Talk about big - hell it's huge!" Vince continued. "I mean, he's no oil painting in general but..."_

_"But what?" the Billion Dollar Princess quizzed, her voice stern and angered._

_"He has a nice personality and that's all that matters." Linda interrupted, her and Vince continuing to titter, Hunter storming back into the kitchen. He was less than amused by the comments just made._

_End of Flashback._

The Heartbreak Kid understood fully why Hunter was annoyed. He would have felt the same too. However, he tried telling him not to over react. Being the King of Kings though, this had very little effect at all.

Paul could be quite stubborn when he wanted to be, believe me, Shawn knew this from past experience. But, he was justified to be pissed off under those circumstances. And, when Hunter had it in his head that he was to do something, he would stop at nothing - and I mean _nothing_ - until he had accomplished it.

A light tap came at the door. "Come in." Shawn spoke, hardly surprised as to who it was.

"Hey Hunter." he welcomed, standing up to hug the taller of them. "How are you?"

"Great, look what got sent to me yesterday." Hunter told, handing Shawn the piece of paper with the McMahon Christmas Menu written on it in fancy gold, swirled writing. It all seemed very professional and suave.

"Wait a minute, how did this get sent to you without McMahon knowing it was you?" the Icon asked, confused to say the least.

"Well, thanks to a friend of ours, he didn't suspect a thing. Mind you, she likes you a hellov a lot more than me." Hunter replied, taking the menu back, standing a little closer to his partner in crime.

"Who's that?"

"Mrs. Benjamin of course!" the Game grinned, watching Shawn's expression drop.

"Great!" Shawn had to laugh to himself, shaking his head a little; he could hardly believe that her infatuation with him was still going on. "So that looks an, ummm, interesting menu..."

"Yeah, too bad we have absolutely no ideas on how to cook it!" Hunter smirked, thinking of sweet revenge when presenting his Father in Law with a plate of food poisoning! He couldn't think of anything better; obviously it would be terrible to wish for anything more, after all, his sweet wife would be devastated if something happened to her Father. She was very much a Daddy's girl at heart.

Yet, she knew how hurt her loving Husband was because of the comments. Whether they were meant as a joke or not, it hardly sounded like it. All Hunter wanted was a little sweet revenge - nothing more, nothing less. Especially if him and his best friend could not only spend Christmas day together - for the first time ever in their ten year friendship - but have a little bit of 'harmless' fun in the act.

Suddenly there came a knock at the door and a familiar figure burst into the room. It was Jonathan Coachman.

"Hello guys."

"Hey." Hunter spoke. holding the paper behind his back, hoping not to draw attention to himself.

"What have you got there?" Coachman quizzed, peering around Hunter's body in hope of discovering what he was holding dearly in his hands.

"Nothing, nothing at all." both Shawn and the Game replied suspiciously in unison.

Scratching his head, Jonathan shrugged. "Oh, ok, anyway, just came to tell you Shawn that your match against Edge is the main event tonight."

"Thank you."

"Say, uh, Coach are you feeling any better today?" Hunter quizzed mockingly, remembering the drunken sickliness of Vince's executive assistant.

Right then and their, D Generation X had realised what the Cerebral Assassin had said.

"Fine, why do ask?"

"Uh, well, it's just..."

"Just you looked a little peaky yesterday at the house show, we were just concerned." Shawn spoke sarcastically, covering up for the King of Kings moment of stupidity.

"Yes, very concerned." Hunter cottoned on, following Shawn's act, his ironic tone in keeping with DX's usual moniker.

"Whatever." Coachman raised an eyebrow, unsure of what the hell the two men were talking about. True, he had had a headache for the best part of the weekend, nothing too serious though. "Have a Merry Christmas!"

"Yes, you too." Hunter politely replied, the Showstoppa' looking less than amused.

"Nice going!" Shawn slapped Paul's arm. "You nearly blew our cover!"

"I'm sorry, I just forgot we weren't meant to talk about how pissed he was!"

"Yeah, well, we both need to have our wits about us while we are around others."

"Sorry." Hunter apologised, referring back to the menu.

"Maybe we ought to put that away before..."

Abruptly, before the Heartbreak Kid could even finish his sentence, the door swung open, an unwanted guest entering, uninvited.

"Well, well, well, just the two boys I was looking for." the blonde Canadian swaggered, slamming the door behind him. "What have you got there?" he pointed to the menu.

"Nothing to do with you!" Hunter snapped, shoving the paper sharply into his pocket.

"You see, from what I saw, it was the McMahon Christmas menu." he raised an eyebrow, removing his tinted glasses.

"Yeah, what's it got to do with you?" the Heartbreak Kid inquired, losing his patients a little too quickly.

"Oh, nothing, just I've heard that they don't have the regular chefs this year." he shrugged, circling the faction in suspicion.

"So, Hunter only has a menu coz he's related to the boss himself." the Icon interrupted.

"As if we could forget around here!" the Rated R Superstar muttered in maddened way.

"What do you want, Edge?" the Game finally asked, his tone of voice telling the story.

"Well, I thought you might be able to help me with a little problem-o that I've been experiencing."

"Sorry, we don't sell Viagra here." Hunter wise cracked, a cheeky grin brought to his mates face.

"Huh, that was cute. No, I wondered Hunter - since you are so, let's just say, knowledgeable of the McMahon family - do you know who Alfonso and John are?"

"Who?" Shawn questioned falsely, his acting not quite good enough this time.

"Alfonso and John - apparently, you two are quite well acquainted with them." the Rated R Superstar's voice turned softer, stroking his chin in a domineering fashion. "I know who they are."

"Well aren't you the lucky one." Hunter rolled his eyes, his voice stale.

"But you see, I'm having a hard time remembering just who they are." Edge continued, beginning to rub his forehead, both the Game and the Heartbreak Kid knowing exactly which direction the conversation was to turn in, throwing each other an exasperated yet concerned glance.

"Look, 'Edge', I don't know what anyone has told you but remember gossip isn't always true." the Cerebral Assassin muttered, Edge's eyes lighting up.

"Ha! So it _is_ you two!" he pointed, clutching his thick hair in his hands as if he had won $10 million without even buying a Lottery ticket.

"So what if it is?" the Icon tilted his head, folding his arms across his bare chest.

"Oh nothing. Just, I don't think Mr. McMahon would be too impressed by the idea of you two sabotaging his Christmas day dinner..."

Triple H had had enough. Slamming Edge against the wall, the King of Kings snarled. "Keep your trap shut, ok? You have no idea why we are doing this, ok?"

"Tell...me...why?" the Rated R Superstar struggled for breath, Hunter's hands trapping his neck firmly in his palms.

"Easy, Paul." Shawn interrupted. By using his Christian name, Mr. Levesque knew his buddy meant business as he took a quick glance at his expression.

"I wouldn't tell you if you were the last person on earth." he responded, releasing Edge from his grasp, allowing him to clear his throat and straighten out his shirt.

"That's nice." Edge replied too calmly for comfort. "See you out there, Shawn. Have a great Christmas." he beamed in a twisted fashion, leaving the DX team mates puzzled.

But would the team mates even make it to Christmas at the McMahon's?

- - - - - - - - - -

Next time in 'Now, That Is What I Call Stuffing The Turkey!'...

It is Christmas day but why can't Paul Levesque go and see his In Laws?

- - - - - - - - - -

Once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, keep 'em coming! Oh yeah, this is the first of three updates this week. The other two will be on Thurday and Christmas Eve, me thinks.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	7. Chapter 7: Second thoughts?

At long last, it was what the majority of us would call our most favourite day of the year (despite the awkward relatives, unwanted, thoughtless gifts because that person 'doesn't see you that much' and therefore has no clue on what you are interested in); Christmas Day!

Rolling over onto her left side, Stephanie McMahon-Levesque's blue eyes fell upon one of her greatest pleasures in life; her husbands sleeping body. Pushing the hair away for her face, she rubbed his bulging bicep, her child like eagerness ready and raring to go.

"Paul, wake up baby, it's Christmas!" she enthusiastically smiled.

"Wha-what?" he grunted, pulling the sheets closer to his face, almost as a way to shield himself from the sunlight pouring through the curtains.

"I said wake up coz it's Christmas day!" she repeated, sitting up in bed slightly.

"Great." Hunter murmured, his eyes drooping back into the land of nod.

However, the ever persistent Billion Dollar Princess wasn't about to give up so easily. "Come on, I want to go and open the prezzies!" she hastened, dragging the covers away from the near muscular figure besides her.

"Just ten more minutes?" the Game begged, alarm bells starting to ring in his wife's ears.

"Are you ok?" she quizzed, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"You don't sound so sure..." she giggled playfully, beginning to tickle her husbands stomach.

"Stephanie Marie, just quit it." Triple H sternly spoke, smacking her fingers in the most gentle of manners; whenever he used her full Christian name, she instantly knew that he was annoyed about something. Either that or...

"Are you sick?"

Groaning, Hunter turned a little on his side, his hands firmly pressed against his forehead. "Well, I don't want to worry you, but..."

"But what?" she questioned, now pushing his hair away from his face.

"I don't feel too good. Man, I don't know how many times I've been up during the night." he grumbled.

"I didn't hear you." Steph's lips curled.

"No, you were flat out, snoring louder than the Big Show, Great Khali and Highlanders put together!" he attempted to joke, just grimacing at the 'pains' in his stomach.

"Cheeky." Stephanie smirked, slapping him playfully on the arm, her expression soon dropping into that of a frown. "I guess you won't be going to my parent's house today?"

Suddenly, that was the appalling moment Paul had been waiting for. "Well, I don't wanna let them down..."

"Oh, you wouldn't be, they'd understand." she replied, very sweetly, yet very naively.

"Well, I don't want to let them down, especially after Coachman went to _all_ of that trouble trying to find some chefs..."

"If you are not well, you aren't well!" Steph almost ordered, heaving the covers back over his body. "You'd be better off in bed rather than out in the cold."

"Only if you are sure..." the Game croaked.

"Positive." Stephanie confirmed, smiling lightly to her husband of over three years.

Just then, the soft cries of their baby daughter could be heard.

"Well, I'll go get her up." Stephanie sighed, kissing Hunter on the lips. "Say, did you want me to bring Aurora's presents up here so we can open them together?"

"Sure, only if it isn't too much trouble..."

"Nothing's too much trouble for you." Stephanie winked, closing the door quietly behind her.

'I am too good!' Hunter mused to himself, grabbing his mobile from his bed side.

- - - - - - - - - -

Helping his cute toddler unwrap her what seemed like millionth Christmas present, the Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels beamed at her excited face; she loved Christmas almost as much as her Daddy did. It broke his heart thinking that he'd miss the majority of her second Christmas.

Folding her arms as she entered the room, Rebecca smiled warmly to herself. Shawn really _was_ a brilliant Father. Most of the time, she couldn't decide who was more childlike between the three of them, including their nearly seven year old son, Cameron!

Yet, she was more than a little disappointed at the thought of him leaving in a little over an hours time to play havoc with his best friend against his boss, instead of spending one of the few days off he had with his family in the comfort of their home. In fact, it really pissed her off when he first told her, so much so she refused to speak to him for the best part of a week.

Yet, he wasn't a child, no matter how good his comical acting on Raw was; he was a grown man with his own mind, more than capable of making his own decisions, even if they were favourable towards her. And that was very much a rare occasion.

Watching his beautiful wife's expression drop, Shawn lifted Cheyenne up in his arms and placed her on the sofa next to her brother. He felt a plea coming on. Before former Nitro girl Whisper could speak, he put his hands up as a defence mechanism, his eyes shutting.

"Look, I know you don't want me to go." he started, his arms now by his side. "But I have to."

"No you don't." Rebecca whined, her expression saddened. "Hunter wants you to go, that's it. And, as always, you'll go running..."

"He's my best friend, what do you expect me to do?"

"I'm your wife and they're your children, does that count for anything?" she raised her voice. Shawn's hands gently took her by the arm, moving her into the next room.

"Please, don't make this any harder than it already is." he begged, watching his beloved Becky raise an eyebrow.

"Fine." she sighed, wrapping her arms around her body. Suddenly, cracking the unusual tone of silence, the Icon's phone began to bleep. Rebecca knew immediately who it was from.

"Hey Hunter...yeah, Merry Christmas to you too! You'll have the plane here in half an hour? Great, see you then, bye!"

- - - - - - - - -

After tears and tantrums from his youngsters, Shawn reluctantly got on the plane that his best friend was currently sat on. Sighing heavily to himself, he strapped himself in, sadly waving to his tear stained family.

"You ok?" Triple H quizzed.

"Yeah." the Heartbreak Kid replied thoughtfully, rolling his eyes a little. "Remind me why we are doing this?"

"Coz we really need to get revenge on that twat Vince - don't tell me you're having second thoughts?" the Game questioned, knowing that Shawn wasn't fully happy with the plan in the first place.

"No. Let's just go so we can get back." Shawn decided as the plane rode high in the sky, getting back to Connecticut in what seemed like a matter of minutes.

The plane touched down, the best friends hopped off. After getting themselves preened in their disguises, they made their way to the McMahon house hold.

But what would Christmas Day have in store for the Heartbreak Kid and The King of Kings as well as the McMahon family?

- - - - - - - - - -

In the next and final chapter of 'Now, That Is What I Call Stuffing The Turkey!'...

How do D Generation X get on cooking for Vince McMahon? Does their vicious plan pull through or will they be finally rumbled before then?

Check back for more, soon!

- - - - - - - - - -

Hey, hope you guys enjoyed that chapter, don't worry, it's the only semi-depressing one in the whole story! Hope you are all getting more Christmassy too - I know I am! Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - hope you enjoy this one as much!


	8. Chapter 8: Two words for ya!

Arriving at the measureless McMahon Mansion in Stanford, Connecticut, 'John' and 'Alfonso' stepped from the car, clutching an array of ingredients in the several carrier bags they held in their hands; today was all about revenge, even if it was meant to be the Holiest day of the year.

Pushing the door bell with his only available finger, Triple H noticed the saddened expression in his best friends eyes. Really, he didn't want to drag him away from his family on such an important day. Yet, Shawn wanted nothing more than to be there for his mate in his hour of need - no matter what time nor day.

"Arr, you must be John and Alfonso - come on in!" Linda gushed, inviting the two men into her house. Neither of them gasped at the masses of extremely expensive furniture or ornaments. They had both seen it all before, or at least heard about it a million times over!

"Did you have a safe journey?" the petite blonde quizzed, smiling warmly to the 'Italian's'.

"Yes, it was very good, very few cars on the road today!" 'John' replied calmly, struggling to keep a firm grasp of the bags.

"I'll lead you to the kitchen before introducing you to the family." Mrs. McMahon spoke, leading the two men to their work place for the day.

"Ummm, must we meet your family?" 'Alfonso' questioned vaguely. "I mean, it's not that we don't want to, it's just that..."

"What he means is," 'John' stepped in after seeing Linda's raised eyebrow, "Time is getting on - it is essential that we start cooking asap!"

"Don't worry, a few minutes won't hurt." Linda differed, waiting patiently for the two men to place the food that she would be eating later down onto the counter. "Now, come on, I'll introduce you to my son and daughter." she beamed with pride, the two men rolling their eyes in dismay; hopefully, neither or the McMahon siblings would recognise them.

"Now, there was going to be an extra mouth to feed but, he cannot make it today." Linda stated.

"What's the matter with him?" 'Alfonso' spoke up, wanting to get his Mother-In-Law's interpretation of events clear in his mind.

"He's ill, apparently." she said doubtfully, pushing open one of the many solid oak wood doors. "Mind you, it's probably a good thing that he couldn't come." she decided, turning her back to the make shift chefs. "Him and my dear Vince would only get into an argument over one thing or another, ruining Christmas like they did last year."

Hunter scowled, Shawn putting a steady yet comforting hand on his buddies chest. They simply couldn't afford to have their cover blown, at least not yet.

It was true, last Christmas day had been a farce. Vince and Hunter had great respect for each other and what either man had done for the wrestling business - and each other over the years. Yet, they struggled to get along with each other for any length of time, due to their similar stubborn, pig headedness as well as their insatiable appetite to win constantly.

No doubt it would have been nothing but the same this year.

Strolling into the living room, Linda introduced the two chefs to her children and Shane's wife as well as Grandchildren. They all greeted each other in a friendly way, wanting to be as pleasant as possible.

However, upon noticing her Father entering the room, Aurora let out a gurgle, her lips forming into that of a smile as Stephanie held her in the direction of 'Alfonso'.

"What's up baby?" the Billion Dollar Princess asked her baby girl, jogging her up and down in her arms, knowing fore well that she wouldn't be able to reply. She glanced from time to time at the figure at the door, not knowing what to make of her daughter's or the gentleman's expressions. Had they met before? Surely not, she promised herself.

"Well, yes, you'd better be getting on." Linda reminded the two men, rubbing her hands together. "Do you need me to show you where the kitchen is again?"

"No, that won't be nessacery." 'Alfonso' replied, sadness clouding his voice; at that moment it hit him like a ton of bricks how Shawn must have felt that morning, leaving his family like that.

Alas, he was determined not to be too downcast by all of this; there would be more occasions for hugging his baby.

Suddenly, an ear piercing wail came from the vast living room, Hunter stopping dead in his tracks. The Icon dragged him on, knowing that if he stood there, he would lose focus.

"What's wrong, angel?" Linda rhetorically quizzed her granddaughter, Stephanie lifting her up into her arms.

"Maybe she just needs her diaper changing." Shane shrugged.

"She doesn't smell like it but I'll take her and see, just in case." Steph decided, gently carrying Aurora to the nearest of many bathrooms available to them.

- - - - - - - - - -

After a couple of hours of cooking, DX were well on their way to cooking the McMahon Christmas meal. They were becoming a little over zealous, each man coming to the conclusion that, if they couldn't be at home with their loved ones of Christmas day, they might as well enjoy each other's company.

However, a phone call was about to make them crash back down to earth with a bump.

As the phone started to bleep, Vince had implored that the duo took the call, bringing the message through to him. "Hello?" 'John' spoke.

"Hi, that's not Vince, is it?" the familiar voice questioned.

"What do you want, Edge?" Shawn grumbled, his Texas accent coming out in full force.

"Oh, nothing, just to wish my favourite boss a very, _very_, Merry Christmas."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Where is he anyway? I need to speak to him about something else - a rather pressing matter." The Rated R Superstar chuckled sadistically.

Just then, the door swung open, the man in question peering past the door frame.

"Uh, wrong number." 'John' replied, plonking the phone down, Mr. McMahon simply shrugging, returning to his family.

"Phew, man, that was a close call!" Shawn exclaimed.

"You don't think Edge really would drop us in it, would he?" Hunter questioned, knowing fore well the answer.

"We're just going to have to keep on our guard, that's all." the Heartbreak Kid decided, stirring the gravy once again.

- - - - - - - - - -

A little while later, dinner was about to be served. As all of the McMahon's became seated at the table, Stephanie looked at her baby adorably. "I think you ought to go into your crib for a little while." she concluded. "After all, you are a little bit too young for turkey just yet!" she cooed, bouncing her bundle of joy up and down a little.

As soon as 'Alfonso' walked in the door, her eyes became wide, a teeny smirk returning to her face. Yet, Mrs. McMahon-Levesque still couldn't make it out...

"What an adorable baby." 'Alfonso' piped up, reflecting the little girls smile.

"She sure is!" Vince agreed. "Tell me, Alfonso, have you been blessed with the gift of children?"

"I have one but she doesn't know me all that well." he spoke, caressing the young baby's cheek. "Do you want me to put her in the cot for you?"

Stephanie spied her parents expressions; they both nodded in agreement for her to do so. She was more than a little over protective of her first born...

"Sure, if you don't mind." Sniffing the air, she caught a whiff of the man's cologne. "That's funny, I brought my husband that same aftershave for Christmas." she grinned, the penny maybe dropping for her.

"Uh, well, you have a very good taste!" 'Alfonso' commented, dashing out of the dinning room, leaving a certain Billion Dollar Princess very, very curious.

"Aurora?" 'John' asked, the baby's eyes once again lighting up.

"Yeah - I'm putting her to bed." 'Alfonso' nodded, taking her to the crib in the living room a little further away.

Laying her down, he watched her eyes melt into his, as her eyelids continued to droop. "I love you so much - never forget that." he told, wrapping the pink, teddy bear blanket around her tiny frame, resting his hand across her chest to feel her soft, rhythmatic breathing.

Abruptly, the door swung open, a person stood there who Hunter was not expecting...

"Stephie...I mean, Stephanie?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you'd put her in bed correctly." she smiled naively to the chef, bending right over in front of him, her short skirt becoming even shorter as her flesh was becoming more and more visible. Hunter adored her legs and thighs.

Taking a keen interest, he bent over a little, imitating her actions. However, as if she had eyes in the back of her head, she spun round, pulling her skirt down, a scowl present on her face.

"Sick, huh?" she folded her arms across her. "You start explaining and start explaining now!" she warned, her eyes narrow, scolding through his body.

Meanwhile, in the dinning room, 'John' was having a hard time keeping his face. Nervously looking at his watch from time to time, he prayed that his partner in crime would be back soon.

"I wonder where Steph's got to?" Shane's wife, Marissa, inquired.

"I dunno..."

"Can I go find her, Mommy?" the eldest McMahon Grandchild, Declan, chimed in, pulling at his Mother's dress sleeve.

"No, son, you stay here," Shane guided, patting his eldest son on the head, "We don't want you getting lost too!"

"Sorry about that." Stephanie strolled back into the dinning room. "She couldn't get to sleep very quickly for some reason."

"So you are now all a-ready for your Christmas Day feast?" 'John' cheered, watching smiles creep across the McMahon family faces as he disappeared back into the kitchen and in search of 'Alfonso'.

"I hope this will be good." Linda raised an eyebrow, knowing that her questions were soon to be answered.

"Well, it smells wonderful." Stephanie beamed, a mischievous smirk coming to her face.

- - - - - - - - - -

"You're kidding me! She's not going to say anything, is she?" Shawn whispered as quietly as he could, a hand pressed against his forehead.

"Nah, don't worry, but I think we should skip the starter and main course, just go onto the 'dessert'." 'Alfonso' nodded, taking the few trays with them.

Smirking as they entered the dining room, 'John' and 'Alfonso' were about to get the revenge they wanted so, so badly.

"Arr, Mr. McMahon, something that you said to us once stuck in my mind," John began, planting a silver covered platter right in front of him, the contents not yet visible. "You like tradition, no?"

"Yes, very much." the Chairman of the Board nodded, his chest plumping, his ego enlarging.

"Well, we only thought it would be right for you to carve the turkey then." 'Alfonso' declared, handing the boss a large carving knife.

Standing proudly at the head of the table, Vince removed his own jacket (for a change), throwing the sandy coloured robe to the floor. Clearing his throat, he lifted the lid off the plate, ready to address whatever be underneath.

Much to his - and the majority of the McMahon family - shock, he lifted the lid, to reveal no turkey or anything resembling food.

Instead, there was a folded piece of paper, simply with 'Vince McMahon' written on the outside. Mr. McMahon was beyond puzzled - where was his family's turkey? He took the paper, unfolding it, shocked at the only two words written in plain, green writing.

"SUCK IT!"

"And, in case you forgot, it's our tradition to beat your ass!" 'Alfonso' growled.

Pulling their disguises from their body, Vince spun round, his mouth dropped, before him were two of his most dreaded workers; Triple H and Shawn Michaels, D Generation X!

Smacking Vince in the back of the head with the platter, Hunter held it up, as a warning of things to come for the rest of the family if they intervene. "Now, that IS what I call stuffing the turkey!" the Game chuckled, holding up the dinted platter in his hands.

Just then, Stephanie got up, her mock shock not plastered across her face for long. "And, if you are not down with that, we've got two words for you." she proudly announced.

"SUCK IT!" the trio roared, bolting out of the door, complete with baby Aurora as the helicopter landed at perfect timing on the McMahon estate's back lawn, all of them getting strapped in.

"Are you ok?" Hunter put an arm around his wife and baby.

"Just fine - he'd had it coming to him for years, calling my handsome husband ugly!" she purred, planting a passionate kiss on her husbands lips.

"Don't I get one?" Shawn joked, feeling a little left out.

"Maybe when we get back to San Antonio." Hunter winked.

As the helicopter rose high in the sky, Vince stumbled to the outside area, followed by Linda and Shane, muttering threats of revenge himself amongst other things. "I'll kill him...I'll fucking kill Coachman!" he announced, clasping the back of his bleeding head. "And Edge...he was meant to be keeping an eye out for me...what happened for that, huh? I knew I should have spied on them myself but 'no', Coachman said, Edge can do it better! I knew I should have trusted my own instincts! John and Alfonso my ass!"

As Vince's insane rant continued, Hunter, Shawn and Stephanie - and even the mystery helicopter driver, donned fully in red and white, his bulging stomach laughing merrily - had just two words to say to the remaining McMahon family:

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"

- - - - - - - - - -

And so that is the conclusion of 'Now, That Is What I Call Stuffing The Turkey!'. A big thank you to **everyone** who has read, reviewed, adding this story to their favourites or alerts, whatever, I just hope you have enjoyed this nonsense fic!

If you have any suggestions for any other stories, just let me know and I could try and work something out. I am still going to be around on this site but, hopefully, adding to the fantastic Placebo slash heaven site of sucker-love! If you love band slash, go check it out, it's purely amazing (cheap pop, lol!)

All that's left for me to say is thank you and Merry Christmas, have a brilliant New Year and 2007!


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